At first his body stubbornly refused to unfurl and it took conscious effort to set seized muscles moving and when they did, pins and needles made him scream out as blood rushed back through his body. “Water”, he tried to say, but all that left him was a croak.
Joshua understood the request though and fetched a pitcher of water from by the bed, before tenderly lifting it to Sam’s lips. The first sip hurt to swallow but as his throat was wetted, he gulped down big mouthfuls, all the time eyeing Joshua with envy.
“Come back?” he mouthed.
“Eh?” Joshua cocked his head to one side.
“Not you,” said Sam, “the thing that’s in you.”
“What thing?”
“You know. And I know, and I don’t know why it left me. I want it back.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joshua lied.
“It belongs with me, I found it,” Sam cried.
“You found nothing, you snivelling piece of shit.” The voice emanating from Joshua’s mouth was not his. It was something much more primal; guttural and ageless. “Look at you,” it boomed. “This one’s much better, mmm, yes.” Joshua’s head had lolled to one side, his eyes glazed over and sightless. His arms lifted, but not of his own will, rather they rose as if they were the arms of a marionette, attached to strings.
“Come back,” Sam sniffed, his heart breaking. “Is there no way to share?”
“You have served your purpose,” the voice said by way of reply. “But now you are spent.”
Sam didn’t understand.
“Such fragile things…” the voice mused. Joshua’s body began to mutate; his snout pushed out, becoming elongated and within it, razor sharp, hooked teeth sprouted. His arms splayed out and these too appeared to stretch and his fingers became long – longer still with the sharp talons which were growing there.
“It was only a stone,” Sam whimpered.
Joshua’s transformation was complete and looming over Sam was a monster in the truest sense of the word. At nine feet tall, even at a stoop the tops of its pointed ears scraped the ceiling. Its skin was grey and warty and its eyes hollow. The thing closed the already small gap between them.
Sam curled back into a ball on the floor, covering his head with his hands and muttering. “Just a stone,” his words barely a whisper.
“It was a prison, and now I’m free.”
“Take me back?” Tears streaked down Sam’s face.
“You were such an exquisite host.” A nail traced Sam’s jawline, drawing blood. “So much pain bottled away, ready for tapping. I knew as soon as you set foot in that infernal place, you know? That you were the one.”
“Then take me,” Sam pleaded.
The nail moved up to Sam’s ear. In one swift movement it was on the floor in a puddle of blood. Sam screamed.
“So beautiful,” it said, slicing off his other ear and his lips.
Sam threw his arms up to his face and tried to speak, spraying scarlet across the creature’s taut, grey flesh. It touched a finger to a drop trickling down its chest, smearing it across its skin before a long, tapered tongue flicked from its mouth and licked it clean.
“And now I must eat.”
###
Also by the Author
Flux
If you’ve enjoyed this book then I’d be eternally grateful if you could leave a review and/or generally help spread the word.
Many Thanks
Mark
Visit facebook.com/markrfaulkner
Twitter: @mrfaulkner1
About the Author
Mark is a thirty-something year old from Birmingham in the UK. He lives with his partner in suburbia where at weekends they are joined by his two children. He has a degree in environmental science and when not writing, he works very long hours in the waste management industry.
As well as writing, and obviously reading, Mark loves being outdoors in any wild place he can find; canoeing, camping and walking. He does a good line in homemade country wines.
The Dark Stone Page 23